Always, I wanna be with you...

So like, someone in my life recently made a "Zombies vs. Unicorns" type playlist. Ultimately, this is an awesome idea - because 1. Zombies are awesome, and 2. Unicorns are awesome. But surely awesome things should converge? But really that's just my solution to my blatant inability to draw...


I also got to draw coverarts for the album. Cover art is cool?


I feel like unicorns are slowly taking over my blog.

But you can't paint an elephant, quite as good as she.

An eighteen year old loser's descent into madness!?

INTRODUCTION: This is what happens when you chronicle being locked out of your house in the freezing cold.

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1.23 AM:

So. I am outside my house, on the front verandah.

My hands are so cold that I am struggling to type this. All of me is cold, really...but mostly my hands. Yes. Anyway. My laptop has three minutes remaining. I will need a powerpoint soon. But since it is so late and I have no key, this will be an epic stakeout. Only I'm not waiting for anything worthwhile, just...just to be let inside. For warmth. For bed. For gooey John Green literature goodness.

Really I should be studying. It's too dark anyway.

I shall just keep telling myself that.

I can hear my parents snoring on the other side of this door.

So very cold.

It's 1.26 now, so, if my laptop were EVER right about ANYTHING, it would have shut down by now.

I wish I could just hibernate like a laptop.

It's fucking cold enough.

And I have to be up so early tomorrow.

Of course, I could just go knock on the door. But no. I tried that before, and in past, all that's ever come of it is being raged at.

You'd think someone would be glad to know their daughter is home safe, sober and chaste. Just a tad frostbitten.

But no.

Instead it's useless this blah blah useless that blah blah GET A FUCKING KEY AND STOP LOSING THEM FOR FUCK'S SAKE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU YOU'RE ALWAYS SO HOPELESS.

This will be like that episode of some documentary.

Where John Safran video-blogged his night in a train station...although that was like, before the day of video blogs. And I do not have a webcam.

But this textual documentation shall be a chronological record of my slow...ever so...slow...descent into madness.

Like, seriously, it's only been about 8 minutes.

This night will drag on.

I've already had one emotional moment. Way back in the very beginning of it all...all of 27 minutes ago.

I knocked on the door then I kicked it. Then I rattled another door. Then I kicked the first door again. Then I burst into tears.

If my parents do not hear that, their sleep is invincible.

It's like the universe has to make your parents into heavy sleepers when you're locked out of your own house, but light sleepers 99% of the rest of the time.

Like if you're inebriated and trying to silently sneak back into your room.

Not that I've ever done that. Nor felt the need to be silent about it.

It is freezing.

My hands smell like jam donuts or some other baked treat that I somehow associate with jam. Probably because of how flourey the base of that pizza I ate was.

This is sounding less like a piece of text, and more like a series of short and concise twitter updates.

I could become like an internet fad, like that girlfriend who says crazy things. Or the guy who sleeptalks. I'll be that girl who gets locked out of her Queenslander house.

If they ever find my body.

Let alone this file in my laptop.

It's not exactly labelled "IF ALICE DIES READ THIS."

What the fuck though.

I am stupid, but, since when is Queensland this cold!?

Email from Threadless. Whoo. That'll be useful when I die of hypothermia.

Sleeeeeeeeeeeeep.

My laptop should be dying again, it being 1.39 and all.

This will be a long night.

Okay fuck it I am climbing in through the window.

Unanswered universal question.

"Why would anyone wear a cubic zirconium encrusted tap?

Actually, I kind of want one."

A humble residence indeed.

This is probably the most amazing house I have ever built in the sims, and I am now sharing it as an indicator of how much spare time I sometimes find I have.

Sleeping habits.

There was a stage earlier in the year where thanks to late night conversations and early morning starts, I had what I would classify as "weird and illogical sleeping patterns". So for funsies, I decided it would be a good idea to make a chart about my sleeping patterns in a typical Alice week. The interesting part was when I decided, for scientific integrity, to add a line of best fit.


LOOK AT THAT. +1 to circadian rhythms, I suppose. This has become relevent to my life again, as I slept for like 12 hours last night to combat the 4 I had the night before. Win.

And while we're on the converging topics of sleeping and statistics, apparently averaging at more than eight hours of sleep a night has a higher correlation with DEATH. I won't even try to use my knowledge of statistics to analyse this suggestion, as this is a long post and I want to scare people.

The true meaning of common internet abbreviations.

Or, conversation overheard. This was in the lolly shop at my university, aaaages ago. I cherish this memory above all others (notably any memory of university content).

Clerk 1: I need coinage BTW.
Clerk 2: You're a BTW!
Clerk 3: Do you even know what BTW is!?
Clerk 2: Yeah...
Clerk 3: Good, cause I don't...Bitching...Cow...Walrus?